


Experimentation

by ifitwasribald



Series: Making Up For Lost Time [1]
Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Anal Sex, Exhibitionism, M/M, Masturbation, Oral Sex, Other, Sex Research
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-31
Updated: 2012-11-10
Packaged: 2017-11-17 10:24:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,139
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/550555
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ifitwasribald/pseuds/ifitwasribald
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bruce and Tony look for a cure for Bruce's big green cockblocking problem.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> For the kinkmeme, prompt at http://avengerkink.livejournal.com/11065.html?thread=23579705#t23579705

“What’s the project?”

Bruce flinched and batted the window closed, only to duck his head sheepishly as he turned to face Tony.

“Just a tip--stealth? Not really your strong suit.”

Bruce did his best to ignore that, but the slight heat on the skin of his face told him that he wasn’t going to get away with nonchalant. He tried anyway. “Just a few notes. How was the board meeting?” Bruce glanced at the nearest clock display. “Short, it seems.”

“Oh, it’s still going. I assume." Tony pushed past Bruce and brought the window back up with a few swipes. “Heart rate, endocrine function, gamma levels--this is a Hulk simulation.”

Bruce covered his forehead with one hand. “Right. Look, it’s just a little side project I play around with from time to time. Nothing important.”

“We already have a Hulk simulation.”

Bruce didn’t look up.

“‘Other guy’ simulation, sorry. So why do you need this one?” Tony poked around at the thing for a minute, and frowned. “This assumes normal cortisol levels, only moderately elevated epinephrine. Why would you be worried about-- oh."

"Right, 'oh.'” Bruce leaned over Tony's shoulder and closed the window again. “It's just some notes, really. Every once in a while I poke around a little to clear my head. We've both got more important things to work on." 

"No, sorry, let me get this straight: you think that if you have sex the other guy's going to come out to play?"

"Wouldn't have been my choice of words, but... yeah."

"How do you know?"

Bruce sighed. "Do we really need to have this conversation?"

“We definitely have to have this conversation. There is no way I’m missing out on this conversation. Are you guessing, or are you sure?”

“Sure enough. The model is inconclusive, but when I, uh, tried, I felt him coming--" Bruce stopped himself and glared at Tony. "The other guy.” Tony’s grin didn’t falter, and Bruce flushed slightly. “You know what I mean.”

Tony let the grin fade. “I do. So what have you figured out so far? That simulation looked a little thin.”

“Like I said, not a priority.”

“Oh, it’s so a priority.”

“There are dozens of things that are more useful for both of us to focus on. This is one trigger I can just avoid--better to leave it at that.”

“There is no way that’s better. For one thing, you’re eventually just going to explode from repressed urges, and we all know that’s not gonna be a good look on you. For another you’re going to wear out your wrist one of these days.” 

Bruce could feel Tony’s eyes studying his face, could practically see the other man’s smirk before he looked up and shook his head.

Tony gave a low whistle. “Now that’s what I call self control. Not since the incident?”

Bruce gave a bitter little grin. “Six years, eight months, twenty-eight days.”

“Not that you’re counting.”

“Right.”

“OK, yeah, this is definitely our new project. JARVIS, tell Ms. Potts to get R&D to take over everything I’m working on other than the Avengers tech. And tell Barton that his new quiver’s going to be a while.”

“Yes sir.”

“Tony, you really don’t have to.”

“Of course I do. What are friends for? And what, you’re really OK with never getting off again?”

Bruce was pretty sure that he hadn’t blushed this much in one hour since-- ever, actually.

“Exactly. Operation Wingman commence!”

“We’re not really going to call it that.”

“Maybe you’re not.”

 

They spent the better part of the afternoon going over the model that Bruce had put together. When they’d exhausted themselves coming up with the chemical variables, sensory and psychological stimuli, and other factors to account for, Tony had a pizza and a six-pack delivered to the lab.

Tony handed a cold bottle over to Bruce. “There’s another thing you didn’t think you could have.”

“Alcohol’s easier to test. Possible to administer controlled doses. Start small, you know the drill.”

“I never start small.”

Bruce snorted. “Right.”

Tony just smirked. “But it’s a good point--we should figure out some testing protocols.”

“We don’t have anything to test yet.”

“Well, yeah, but this part’s fun. How do you test sex in small doses?” Bruce was fairly sure Tony’s question was rhetorical. But no, apparently Tony meant to answer it. “I mean, is porn the first level or is jerking off? Assuming you can isolate the two. Maybe start with a lower dose. A kiss?”

Bruce blinked. “Uh, no significant effect from... that.”

“So you haven’t been a complete monk these six years, eight months, etcetera?”

Bruce took another sip of his beer and pointedly failed to answer.

“And who was the lucky... individual?”

“Betty,” Bruce finally answered, and if he didn’t know better, he would have thought he saw a twinge of--what, disappointment?--in Tony’s face. _It really has been too long, Banner,_ he told himself firmly, _you’re imagining things_.

“OK, so how far did things get with Betty? I ask only for science.”

“And not for gossip?”

Tony’s face darkened. “Not really one for gossip.”

Right. Bruce didn’t normally read tabloids or society columns, but he’d seen enough to know that Tony and Pepper’s break-up had been a popular theme for weeks, and one that hadn’t been kind to either of them.

Tony shrugged. “Anyway, the first step is probably to put together a containment area and invite the other guy out to test it. After that we figure out testing protocols, get some baseline readings, and by then I’m sure we’ll find something to test. I’ve got some ideas already.”

They tossed around possibilities and idle notions as they polished off the pizza and Tony finished most of the rest of the beer. Just after midnight, Bruce stood to head for his bedroom. On his way out, he placed a hand on Tony’s shoulder and gave a squeeze. “Thanks.”

 

The containment room was ready faster than Bruce would have thought possible. Between his own notes, Tony's extensive on-site fabrication equipment, and their virtually unlimited budget, it was only two days later that Bruce found himself inside the thing, ready to let the other guy out to see if it would hold.

It was bigger than the one they'd had on the helicarrier, and better designed as well, thanks to his actual knowledge of the other guy's capabilities. Still circular to avoid giving the other guy the leverage a corner could provide, but thankfully the walls of this one weren’t clear. Not that they provided much privacy anyway--a large window curved around the top half of one side, and the ceiling and walls were outfitted with the latest in surveillance and medical monitoring.

Tony stood immediately on the other side, just a couple of feet from the window, the visor of his suit up and an impish grin on his face. Steve and Thor sat a little further away, chatting as if over dinner, but with weapons in hand. Mercifully Tony hadn’t specified why they needed to test a containment area for the other guy, and neither had asked.

Bruce took a long, slow breath, waved jauntily with one hand in an attempt to distract from the creeping dread surely visible on his face, and inch by inch gave himself over to his own personal maelstrom.

 

When he returned to himself the walls still stood. The thick carpet was worse for wear, and dents and scratches marred all the visible surfaces, but the other guy clearly hadn’t done any structural harm.

Bruce allowed himself to lie still for a long moment before getting to his feet. He surveyed the scene in the lab through the window--Steve and Thor were gone, and Tony stood at a computer console, flicking various programs and files around the screen. It took only an instant for Tony to register that Bruce was awake and upright, and only a second more for his eyes to fix on Bruce’s bare chest with an odd expression on his face.

Bruce looked down at himself. It was strange to wake up so clean after time as the other guy. Usually the other guy managed to get him caked in six kinds of grime. Perhaps to make up for it, he had done more than the usual number on Bruce's clothes, which lay in useless tatters all over the floor.

Bruce looked back up at Tony, whose eyes quickly shifted up to Bruce's face.

"You OK?"

"Fine. More or less. He didn't like being in a cage." Bruce winced at the disjointed memory.

"Yeah, he made that pretty clear. I think the pants were retaliation. He spent a while on them."

Bruce sighed. “JARVIS, care to open the door?”

“Gladly, sir. It is good to have you back.”

Bruce opened the door a few inches and reached out to grab the bag of clothes he’d left, only to look up and find Tony watching him again. Only to have Tony look away just as before. That was... interesting, in ways that Bruce wasn’t in a position to consider just then.

He dressed quickly and joined Tony in the main part of the lab.

“So, next steps?"

"The, uh, baseline reading does seem logical."

"Let me clarify--by 'baseline reading' you mean that you want to jerk off while I watch your vitals to see if the other guy is... coming."

Bruce chuckled in spite of himself. "Right.”

“Pretty kinky, Banner.” Tony grinned, his gorgeous eyes dancing.

Bruce ducked his head. Since when did he notice that Tony’s eyes were gorgeous? No, better not to kid himself--he’d noticed that first day, on the Helicarrier, long before he had even an inkling that it could ever, even in his dreams, matter. 

He put that thought out of his mind and looked up again. "Not today, though. And ideally the test should stop as soon as we have enough data to come up with some theories." He winced. "I don't want to repeat today's experience if I don't have to."

“I’m OK with that. Don’t want the other guy getting the idea that I keep sticking him in a cage. I don’t think he gets it’s for the greater good.”

"To be fair, you have a pretty eccentric definition of 'greater good' in this scenario."

"So--tomorrow?"

"Uh, yeah. Tomorrow." And for all the weirdness of scheduling a time to masturbate in the company of your closest friend, and much as it was sure to be an unsatisfying experience, Bruce had to admit that he was looking forward to it.

 

Just to prove that nothing in Bruce’s life could be simple, Fury called four hours later to alert the Avengers to a new threat by some evil genius or other, and they were all absorbed in combatting her and her robot army for days. And after that there were robots to dismantle and results to analyze. 

Bruce did his best not to mind the lack of forward momentum on his own very personal project. His hopes shouldn't have been up in the first place, he reminded himself. He should just have left well enough alone.

Luckily for him, “leave well enough alone” was not a concept with which Tony was familiar.

Bruce entered the lab bright and early on the sixth day after the incident, and was surprised to find Tony already there. “No work for you this morning, Big Green--I’ve got all the processors running on the modeling we worked out yesterday, and it’s going to be hours before there’s anything workable. Time to shift gears.”

“Shift gears?”

“Baseline reading.” Tony pointed a thumb at the containment chamber. “If you’re up for it?” he added with a smirk.

Bruce flushed, because suddenly he pretty much was. Which, he reminded himself, was only natural. It had been a long time since he’d allowed himself to even consider getting off. There was no reason to think his reaction had anything to do with that perfect little quirk of Tony’s lips.

“Yeah,” he managed.

“Great.” Tony pressed an adhesive monitor to Bruce’s upper arm before turning away to bring the monitoring program up on the nearest console. “I’ll be watching the results, and the program will alert you if you get close to a gamma cascade. Oh, and the windows are outfitted with a smart glaze--just tell JARVIS when you want them to go opaque. Unless you want an audience.” Tony’s grin broadened in an exaggerated leer.

“I think I’ll be fine. You’ve got your bracelets, just in case?”

Tony held his wrists up for inspection, and Bruce nodded shortly. Realizing that any further conversation was only going to be awkward, he made his way directly to the containment room.

And stopped short in the doorway. The room, once a bare expanse of cheap carpet and sturdy walls, now held a king size bed, understated side tables, an oak desk, and two armchairs. It was more or less how Bruce would have appointed his own bedroom, he realized, walking in and allowing the door to shut behind him. Except that he would definitely have omitted the stack of porn magazines.

He stopped in the center of the room, suddenly uncertain. Bruce had thought the overwhelming weirdness of his life had prepared him for anything, but apparently not.

"Uh, JARVIS, full opacity on the window."

"Of course sir." The window went dark immediately, leaving the room bathed in soft lamplight. "The glaze also functions as a video screen. Mr. Stark has instructed that his personal video library be made available--"

"Um, that shouldn't be necessary."

"Very good, sir."

Bruce looked around blankly for another moment and sat gingerly on the bed. He palmed his half-hard cock through his pants, but almost immediately pulled his hand away again. 

He stared at the wall for a long moment, and then shook his head. For lack of anything better to do--other than what he was there for, anyway--he leaned over one of the side tables and pulled out the drawer.

It wasn’t like he’d expected to find a Gideon Bible or anything. But still, Bruce had to admit that he was surprised at the array. Several bottles of lube, six dildos of varying sizes, several plugs, a set of anal beads, three vibrators, a tube that Bruce vaguely recalled being referred to as a “fleshlight,” and a couple of objects that Bruce couldn’t identify. 

He shut the drawer abruptly and moved a little further down the bed.

And sat for several minutes more. 

Bruce took a deep breath, lay down on the bed, and unfastened his pants. He reached in to grasp his cock--still half hard--and gave a few tentative strokes.

Shit. This was not going to work. Bruce shuddered to think what Tony would make of the delay. He pictured Tony’s eyes on the screen, his lips pursed in concern. Waiting for the elevated heart rate, the hormone production, the elevated skin temperature that would give away real arousal.

Was he picturing Bruce’s hand on his dick? Imagining him picking out one of the toys? Thinking of him slicking up his hand with lube and running it up, down, around, in?

Suddenly Bruce felt his blood rush south in earnest, the delicious thrum of arousal coursing through him. Long experience had taught Bruce never to hope for too much, but here inside his own head he could let himself imagine Tony’s thoughts on him--on his prick, suddenly hard and aching.

Bruce scrambled to open the drawer again, pulled out one of the bottles of lube at random, and covered his hand with it. When his fingers closed around his cock he let out a little moan. He’d almost forgotten how good his own hand could feel, slick and firm, the thumb rubbing over his head just way he needed it with every stroke.

Tony would have seen the spike in half the vitals on the monitor. He’d know that something had finally worked, that Bruce was hot and horny and thrusting desperately into his own hand. Might have given a little gasp between those lips. His pupils might have dilated, darker than usual. His cock might--

“Gamma cascade imminent,” came JARVIS’s voice over the com. Bruce groaned and allowed one last stroke, almost ready to continue and damn the consequences. 

But no.

He pulled his hand away, took a deep breath, tried to regain his calm. Damnit. He couldn’t just feel good for one fucking minute. Six years, nine months, five days and he couldn’t have one more goddamned minute. 

Shit. This wasn’t good. He sucked in another breath, faster than he intended. His veins burned, hotter than arousal. Fuck. Really not good.

“That looked like it sucked.” Tony’s voice was crystal clear over the com.

Bruce gasped, and even he couldn’t have said whether it was a laugh or a sob.

“Cockblocked like that, I’d be ready for some smashing too.”

This time it was definitely a laugh. “Yeah.”

"You ok?"

Bruce considered. "Yeah," he said again.

"We'll figure this out."

 

But their first theory proved to be a bust before they got as far as the testing phase, and the second turned out to have insurmountable delivery problems. The third seemed promising all the way up until the moment in the containment room when JARVIS's warning cut Bruce off just seconds away from release.

The fourth and fifth attempts ended similarly, and as they commenced work on number six, Bruce began to wonder if the whole thing hadn't been a horrible mistake. It had been weeks. They were both well behind on important projects--nothing earth-shattering, but a hell of a lot more pressing than getting a guy off. The rest of the team had probably started to wonder what ridiculous havok the two of them were up to, and it was only a matter of time before they found out, if they hadn't already. 

But most of all, the whole thing had reawakened needs he'd long repressed. Before they started working on the project, he had the occasional urge, sure, an unfortunate erection here and there, but nothing very difficult to ignore.

Now that composure was gone. His thoughts turned constantly to sex--positions, partners, all those toys nestled in their drawer, and all the ways they could be put to use.

And then there was the man who put them there. Bruce was half convinced that Tony was actively trying to torment him. They discussed the project at all hours, and even when Tony stuck to the technical details of the research, it still served as a reminder that Tony’s incredible mind was focused on Bruce’s sex life, or, as it happened, the complete lack thereof.

Worse--far worse--were the conversations that failed to stick to scientific inquiry.

 

“So what are you going to do once we get this working?” Tony asked him over a late dinner in the lab.

“You’re a certified genius. I’d imagine you can figure that out.”

Tony ignored that. “Surely you’ve decided in what order you plan to reintroduce the relevant stimuli?” He grinned, his lips somehow mocking and seductive all at once.

Bruce had thought he was done blushing, but his skin proved him wrong. He had in fact put quite a lot of thought into that particular question, and he had a feeling that Tony wasn’t going to let him get away with refusing to respond. Or maybe Bruce just didn’t want to refuse--tortuous and embarrassing as it was, he had to admit that there was a perverse appeal to discussing the subject. Also, he really didn’t want to give Tony the satisfaction of letting the topic fluster him.

“Manual stimulation initially, of course,” he began evenly. 

Tony nodded.

“That would be followed by autosexual anal penetration to determine whether penetrative acts trigger a stronger or otherwise distinct reaction.”

Tony nodded again, but this time his eyes stayed fixed on Bruce’s face.

“Further activities would be dependent on the presence of an additional party, and should such a party prove... interested... would be dependent on that individual’s sex and proclivities. Should the individual be male,” Bruce took a breath, met Tony’s eyes, “I would be inclined to suggest that he begin by fucking me through the mattress.” 

Tony parted his lips as if he were about to speak, but closed them again without saying anything. 

“Restraints might be appropriate,” Bruce continued casually, “at least initially, to provide an additional safeguard for the other party, should things not go as anticipated. After that, I think most anything would be on the table."

Bruce watched Tony’s adam’s apple bob as he swallowed.

“Does that answer your question?”

“Uh, yes. Very thorough, ‘A’ for effort, and so on.”

Bruce smiled ruefully. Flustering Tony definitely wasn’t without its satisfactions, but once again Bruce was left aching hard and with nothing pleasant that he could do about it. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I need to go take a very cold shower.”

 

Bruce entered the lab for the fourth day of work on theory number six and found himself apparently alone. He went to his usual workstation and pulled up his notes to check them against a thought that had occurred to him during his new cold-shower morning ritual.

He’d been working for a few minutes when Tony emerged from underneath one of the server arrays, his undershirt and bare arms slightly damp with sweat. Bruce caught himself starting and forced his focus back to the screen.

“Needed to tweak the connections,” Tony noted, “should be more efficient this way.” He grabbed a bottle of water and took a long drink. “Hot under there,” he added.

“Yeah," Bruce managed.

“What have you got there?”

“Well, I was thinking--” But suddenly Bruce could barely remember what he’d been thinking. Tony had come around the desk to see the monitor, and stopped just inches behind Bruce. Every nerve in Bruce’s body registered Tony’s proximity, his scent, the heat of his body. Though maybe that last was just the flush of Bruce’s own skin.

He took a breath, forced himself to speak normally. “--about the compound we discussed yesterday. There was something missing, and I realized that if we piggyback that on the endocrine modulator we tried last week, we might be able to get out ahead of the reaction and cut it off before it gets going.”

Tony studied the screen for a moment. “No, because that doesn’t solve the-- wait, but if we made sure the delivery system compensated for delay-- hah!” Tony clapped Bruce on the shoulder. “This is going to work.”

 

Two days later Bruce stepped into the containment room again, this time with their latest prototype affixed to his upper arm. _This could still fail,_ he reminded himself, even as his cock strained against his trousers.

He pulled himself out, slicked his hand, and wrapped it around his cock. After days of anticipation, it was all he could do not to let go and jerk himself off as fast as he could. 

But he wanted to draw it out, make it last, in case this theory didn’t work any better than the first five. Even if he couldn’t bring himself off, he could still enjoy the sensation of his slick hand firm around his cock. And the thought of Tony’s hand, or Tony’s mouth, there instead.

Bruce pulled his pants all the way off and lay back. He reached down with his free hand to touch himself, exploring his own body as he hadn't in years, while his other hand worked up and down his shaft. He closed his eyes and thought of nothing but the sensations--the little pockets of pleasure he found with each stroke, the low tight heat pooling in his groin.

He was close. 

Tony would know he was close--would be able to tell from the readings. And damn if that wasn't somehow the hottest thought he had entertained in a very long time.

He felt his balls tighten along with what felt like every other muscle in his body, all focused inward on the gorgeous slide and drag of his hand up and down on his cock.

Just one more stroke, two, and God, he wanted this so much---too much--if this didn't work, if he had to stop again, he really wasn’t sure he’d be able to control the other guy.

And suddenly all those tensed muscles let go--flowing, pulsing, relief and release and exquisite pleasure. He felt himself spill--on his hand, and on the shirt he hadn’t bothered to remove. Later he would worry about that, take a sample, test it, but for now nothing mattered but the gentle aftershocks, ebbing and flowing in their perfect little waves.

They hadn’t even passed when Tony’s voice rang out over the intercom. “Now _that’s_ what I’m talking about. Congrats all around, good work team!”

“Tony.”

“Too soon?”

“Give me a minute.”

“Right.”

Bruce lay still for another moment, comfortably boneless. And then: “Tony?”

“Yeah?”

“Thanks.”


	2. Chapter 2

Tony had a bottle of champagne and two glasses at the ready when Bruce emerged. Bruce considered several objections, ranging from the hour to the absurdity of toasting masturbatory accomplishments, but abandoned them all at the genuine smile on Tony’s face.

He accepted a glass and raised it to drink, only to be stopped by Tony’s warm hand on his wrist. 

“Rude not to wait for the toast.” Tony raised his own glass. “To the successful _completion_ of Phase 1.”

Bruce snorted, but clinked his glass against Tony’s and drank anyway, enjoying the sharp effervescence on his tongue.

Two glasses later they were sprawled on either side of the lab’s sole couch, and Tony was drawing to the close of a convoluted story about a prank he’d pulled at MIT. “--and that is how I managed to fail orthopedic biomechanics.”

Bruce laughed and Tony did too, and then silence fell and Tony poured them both more champagne. 

Bruce fingered the smooth crystal of his glass and watched the tiny bubbles make their way to the surface.

“So when does Phase 2 commence?”

Bruce arched an eyebrow.

“Hey, you’re the guy with the emphatic three point plan.”

Bruce flushed a little at the memory. “No rush.”

Tony looked away. “Right. Wouldn’t want to rush headlong into enjoying yourself.”

Bruce took another sip of champagne. “I... I don’t even know if I’d have any... volunteers for a Phase 3 anyway.” He was almost enough of a lightweight that he could blame that particular piece of fishing on the alcohol.

Tony’s eyes returned to Bruce’s face. He downed the rest of his own champagne and set the glass aside. “Two things. One--you’re not an idiot. And two--I’m pretty sure I’ve been a few miles from subtle.” He took Bruce’s glass out of his hand. “But since you’re apparently set on pretending otherwise, I’ll put it another way: this is me, volunteering.” He leaned forward until his lips were just inches from Bruce’s. “OK?”

“Really very OK.” Bruce realized that he was in danger of rambling, and cut himself off with a kiss. Tony tasted of champagne and salt and heat, and his tongue was as clever now as always. Bruce let his hands wander, one to the back of Tony’s head and the other to his hip, and Tony shifted himself to straddle Bruce.

Tony pulled back from the kiss, and Bruce nearly protested before he felt Tony’s lips on his neck, his beard rasping against the skin of his throat. Bruce moaned and strained upwards. “Oh God, Tony. I can’t--”

Tony sat up. “Right. Shit. OK, new plan. Phase 2? Nowish?”

Bruce blinked and swallowed. “Nowish sounds good.” He took a deep breath and adjusted himself so that he could stand without making a completely obscene display. Not that the idea of such a display wasn’t a little bit appealing. “Care to make a visual observation?”

Tony’s breath hitched. “JARVIS, lock the lab.”

Bruce checked the patch, still firmly affixed to his upper arm, still indicating that it was fully operational. He looked up at Tony, debating another kiss. He didn’t want to presume that this was more than it was, but-- _What the hell._ He brought their lips together quickly, briefly, his teeth dragging lightly on Tony’s lower lip as he pulled away sooner than he would have liked.

Three strides put him in the containment chamber, and JARVIS slid the door shut behind him. Bruce moved directly to the end table and opened the drawer to reveal the six dildos, nestled in their places. His hand found one at random--bright purple, and big without being ridiculously so. He drew it out, along with a bottle of lube. He set the lube on the table and held up the dildo, arching an eyebrow at Tony, who stood a few feet away from the window separating them.

“I like it.” Of course Tony had the coms on already. “Gonna fuck yourself with it?”

“That’s more or less the plan.”

Tony’s hand went to his groin, pressing against the visible silhouette of his cock, and Bruce was seized with the sudden, nearly overwhelming desire to sink to his knees and take that cock between his lips. 

Later. Hopefully.

For now Bruce had to figure out how to do this. Fucking himself first was perfectly logical. Penetration could trigger a different response than orgasm, and the absolute last thing he wanted was to put Tony in danger.

But the obvious logic of the plan didn’t make it feel any more natural, now that he stood in the middle of the containment room holding a large purple dildo. It wasn't that he'd never fucked himself. Just that last time he'd been twenty-two, and he hadn't had an audience. So this? This was new.

He toed off his shoes and bent to strip off his socks, debating a striptease.

No, that would look ridiculous.

On the other hand, skipping straight to shucking off his pants and boxers was going to be light on dignity too.

"I can hear you thinking in there. Take it off, Banner!"

Bruce pulled his shirt over his head and looked back to Tony, forcing his expression into a defiant pride over the hairy, lightly muscled torso for which he felt no such thing. But a real smile snuck through as he registered the frank appreciation on Tony's face.

Tony's hand moved from lightly stroking himself through the fabric of his pants to unbuckling his belt. Bruce found himself mirroring the gesture, but when Tony maneuvered his cock out of his jeans and gave it a slow, showy stroke, Bruce stopped and stared.

“I thought I was the one getting a show here.” 

“You’ll forgive me for being distracted--it’s been a while.” Bruce watched as Tony’s hand moved over himself again, and let a small hum of appreciation pass through his lips. 

Tony pointedly cleared his throat, and Bruce pulled his attention away from Tony’s cock for long enough to strip off his pants and boxers in one motion, leaving himself completely naked. 

He brought his hand to his cock, and gave it a stroke in time with Tony’s rhythm. It occurred to him that he could just stroke himself off like this, for the second time that day--which would also make it the second time that year or that six years. It would be simple, and easy, and very good.

But it would also delay his opportunity to get Tony Stark in his bed, and now that he knew that that was an actual option, it was hard to accept anything that put it further way. Reason enough to stick with the plan.

“JARVIS, you’re recording all readings?”

“Of course, sir.”

Bruce sat on the bed and lay back, bringing his knees up and spreading them slightly. He felt incredibly exposed--Tony would be able to see everything, and suddenly Bruce was reminded of the incredible array of models that Tony had been with, not to mention the gorgeous Pepper Potts and surely any number of people far more attractive than Bruce.

He glanced up to find Tony’s mouth slightly open, his hand still moving over his cock and his eyes fixed on Bruce. “Jesus,” he muttered in a tone that pushed all of Tony’s previous lovers completely out of Bruce’s mind.

Bruce grabbed the lube again and covered three fingers. He slipped one of them inside himself, stretching himself with a perfunctory circle before pressing in a second and third in quick succession. It was too fast, too rough, but just what he intended. It hurt, but even that burning pain felt good.

“Fuck, you are--fuck, that’s hot.”

Bruce felt a surge of heat, and he moaned. Bruce had never had an exhibitionist streak before, but Tony’s eyes on him went straight to his prick.

He pulled his fingers out and grabbed the dildo, slicking it well before reaching between his thighs to let its point rest at his entrance. He didn’t want to do this carefully, didn’t want to take it slow. Better to alarm the other guy now than when it was Tony fucking him open.

He pushed, hard, and arched off the bed, more in pain than in pleasure. He let himself just breathe, and adjust, for a moment. “JARVIS, readings?”

“All readings within safe parameters.”

“You good?” Tony asked.

“Yeah, I’m good.” He brought the dildo out a little and pushed it back in. The pain had subsided and been replaced by simple fullness. Not amazing, but comfortable, solid. He brought his other hand to his prick, made a fist.

“You look... incredible.”

Bruce couldn’t see Tony very well from his position on the bed, but he could tell from the hitch in Tony’s voice that he was still stroking himself.

He started to thrust the dildo harder, and the comfortable feeling slid towards real pleasure.

“Press down... just a little,” Tony suggested, and Bruce did, shifting the angle slightly, but enough that the next stroke hit him just right and he gasped his appreciation. “Like that, keep going.”

Bruce pumped the thing into himself, letting it hit that spot every time, and soon he was conscious of nothing but that spark, and the tight ring of his hand around his cock, and the sound of Tony’s labored breathing in his ear.

Bruce felt his orgasm approaching, and gasped out something that he intended as a warning, though why or to whom he couldn’t really say. And then he thrust in one last time and held there, his hips making tiny adjustments to draw out the last jolts of pleasure as his cock throbbed through his climax.

Bruce collapsed back onto the bed, and listened to Tony’s gasping breaths and a final, ragged exhalation. “Good study,” Bruce suggested weakly.

“The _best_ study.”

 

Much as Bruce might have wished it were otherwise, he was well enough versed in human anatomy to know that Phase 3 wasn’t likely to be on the table that night. Besides which, he had work to do.

It took until midmorning of the next day to determine to his satisfaction that neither the logs of the day's experiments, nor the exhaustive analysis of his own emissions, suggested any danger to a partner. He closed the window that held the last of the results, and nodded in satisfaction.

Tony looked up from his own monitor. "All clear?"

Bruce swallowed. "It looks like.... all clear."

Within seconds Bruce felt Tony’s hand on his shoulder, turning him and pulling him in. Their lips came together, and Tony’s hands wandered down, landing squarely on Bruce’s ass with a grip that sent Bruce’s blood rushing south.

Bruce’s own hands found Tony’s waist, and one slipped up to run his fingers over Tony’s chest, his warm skin and the smooth pulse of the arc reactor and the little nub of one of his nipples. Tony gasped into the kiss at that last.

Bruce pulled back. “Containment room,” he managed.

“Yes, right. Good.”

Tony slammed the door shut behind them and pressed Bruce against the wall, his lips on Bruce’s throat and his hands running up under Bruce’s shirt. Bruce let out a desperate whine and bucked against Tony’s hips.

Tony drew Bruce’s shirt up and over his head, and ducked down to bring his lips to Bruce’s chest.

Bruce cried out when Tony’s tongue and teeth found his nipple. He was so close already, and then Tony’s hand was on his belt, unfastening and unbuttoning and unzipping and generally undoing Bruce altogether.

Bruce sucked in a breath and tried to remember who he was. “Tony. Tony, we can’t--”

“What?” Tony pulled away, a comically horrified look on his face. “We really can. ‘All clear.’ You said ‘all clear.’”

"We can, but, uh, safety precautions.” Bruce hefted a bag he'd left on the desk, pulled out a set of restraints, and held them up for Tony's inspection. "I had JARVIS fabricate them--figured you wouldn't mind."

Tony just stared for a moment, and swallowed hard before answering. "You were serious about those?"

"And about beginning with you fucking me. That's safest--gives you a minimum of sixteen seconds to get away from me if--" Bruce looked at the carpet, and back up at Tony. "I wouldn't blame you if you changed your mind."

"Yeah, let me think." Tony took the restraints from Bruce's hands, examined them briefly, and began to almost absently unbuckle one of the cuffs. "Do I really want to tie you up and screw your brains out?" He tugged at the waistband of Bruce's boxers, bringing him away from the wall before placing a hand firmly against his chest, turning and gently pushing him towards the bed. Bruce stared, mesmerized, and allowed himself to be pressed down on his back. "Survey says yes."

Something in the the low certainty of his voice shivered across Bruce’s skin, seeped into his blood and sent every nerve blazing. “Please. Oh, God, please.”

Tony grasped both of Bruce’s writs and lifted them over his head, deftly binding them with the cuffs and anchoring them to the wall behind the bed. Tony’s hands slid down along Bruce’s arms, over his chest and stomach to his boxers, and didn’t stop there, pulling them down and off and leaving Bruce stretched out, naked and waiting and wanting.

Tony stood back and admired his handiwork. He sat on the bed, idly running a hand up and down the sensitive skin on the inside of Bruce’s thighs. “So your minimum sixteen seconds, that can’t really be just for fucking you, right?” He brought the hand up to ghost over Bruce’s chest, tracing patterns that approached but never reached his nipples.

A little moan was the only answer Bruce could manage.

“I mean, anything I can do from on top of you isn’t going to vary by more than a second or two,” Tony mused, his hand still moving over Bruce’s skin. “And you said it yourself, it’s been a while.” He moved lower, dipping between Bruce’s thighs to run a finger over the skin of Bruce’s balls as Bruce gasped and spread his legs apart.

“So help me, Tony,” Bruce gasped, “if you don’t fuck me soon--” Bruce stopped, because he didn’t actually have a threat there. He knew perfectly well that he’d do anything Tony asked him to no matter how long Tony made him wait.

“Oh, I’m going to, that’s a promise. But I’ve got a couple other items on my to-do list.” Tony considered, his fingers still moving over Bruce’s skin as of of their own accord, leaving a trail of tingling nerves and raw need. “Well, they’re all you. You basically are my to-do list. But--” 

“Tony.” Under the circumstances, Bruce couldn't be faulted for the plaintive note in his voice. “Have I mentioned that it’s been a very long time?”

“Right. Which is why--” Bruce made another noise, low in his throat. “OK, less explaining, more doing, I hear you.” He pushed Bruce’s legs apart and bent over, sliding his mouth over Bruce’s cock and continuing steadily on down until his lips were seated firmly around the base and Bruce was voicing every obscenity he’d ever learned.

Tony’s mouth was hot and wet and never still, not even now, his tongue and throat and probably even his tonsils conspiring to rub and suck and press, and Bruce curled his toes around the sheets and mustered ever fiber of will to keep himself from thrusting into Tony’s throat and coming right there. “Fuck, holy fucking damn, Tony, God, please. Please please.”

Bruce felt Tony’s hum of satisfaction all along the length of his prick and up inside of him, where it settled, burning away that last fiber of self control, and Bruce bucked up, pressing further into Tony’s welcoming throat. 

Tony spread his hands over Bruce’s hips and held him down as he pulled up, nearly off Bruce’s cock, tongue busily sliding over every sensitive inch and swirling over his head as his lips tightened just under the crown and he _sucked_ and Bruce moaned louder than he thought he ever had before. 

And then, as Tony didn’t stop, didn’t stop and just kept sucking, sucking everything Bruce had ever been and ever would be, Bruce swore again. “Fuck Tony, so close, please just, just just please.” 

The sucking was perfectly, exquisitely not enough, and Bruce knew that the instant Tony’s lips descended over him again he’d tip over the edge and fall and fall and fall, and he’d thought that yesterday had been as good as he could ever feel, but now he knew that he was wrong and wrong and wrong and this was better already and he hadn’t even reached the edge yet. But he was so very close he could feel it in the curl of his toes and all the way up his spine.

But suddenly there was cold air against the whole of his wet cock, and Tony was upright, his spit-slicked, swollen lips sporting a shit-eating grin, and Bruce gaped up at him, almost unable to work out what had happened. He made a pitiful little sound, pitch rising in wordless inquiry.

“JARVIS, readings?”

“All readings within safe parameters.”

“See? If _that_ didn’t jack up your readings, you’re safe as houses.”

There was some part of Bruce’s brain that could appreciate the conclusion, but that part was in no way the driving force at that moment. “Seriously?” he managed, when he could finally reactivate the portion of his brain responsible for linguistic functions. “You picked right then to get cautious on me?”

Tony licked his lips, and the sight was so obscene that Bruce was reasonably sure it wouldn’t be legal in public. “I may have had additional motivations,” he conceded with a grin. He stood and stripped off his shirt, which was quickly followed to the floor by every other stitch of clothing he had on. “Not that blowing you isn’t fun--it really, _really_ is--but I made a promise,” his hand moved down to his cock, giving it the same showy strokes he had when Bruce had had to watch through a panel of indestructible glass, “and I would really like to keep it.”

Bruce moaned his agreement and pulled his legs up and apart, as clear an invitation as he could make it.

Still, Tony just stood for a moment, staring at Bruce like he never wanted to look away.

“I am not above begging.”

Tony smirked. “I noticed.” He pulled a bottle of lube out of the bedside table and popped the cap, moving to kneel between Bruce’s legs. Bruce strained to spread his legs further still, but really had nowhere to go. He regretted not having the use of his hands, wanted to pull Tony close, and prep himself, and draw Tony in, and generally hurry along the part where Tony would be pushing deep inside him. But he had to concede that the tension might be worth it--that he was enjoying every delicious second, watching Tony and waiting until he agreed to give Bruce what he needed.

One finger slid over Bruce’s opening, tracing the circle of muscle and eliciting a string of tiny, desperate noises from Bruce’s throat. 

Tony swallowed. “Holy hell, Bruce.” He slipped the finger inside, just slightly, and Bruce moaned. “I can’t wait to be in you.”

“Don’t wait. Please. Too much waiting.”

Tony apparently saw the truth of that, because he thrust in faster with the one finger, and quickly added another. “Just a little more, Bruce, and I will finally get to fuck you in the mattress like I’ve been imagining for weeks.” Tony’s clever fingers swirled and danced, scissoring and pressing and opening him. “Even before you said-- what you said. At the beginning when you were trying out the sensors,” he continued.

Bruce had no idea how Tony could continue to make conversation. But then, he couldn't really have said whether Tony’s words were intelligible or not--he could barely focus enough to follow anything, his consciousness narrowed to Tony’s deft fingers inside him.

“I wanted to fuck you then. Wanted to do this--”

Bruce groaned again as Tony’s fingers scissored, and a third digit slipped in, and he was so full, but not as full as he knew he was about to be. “This is good. Tony, this is enough, please.”

Tony’s fingers disappeared, and Bruce felt Tony’s hands on his hips, lifting him, and bracing his legs against Tony’s shoulders. His ass slightly in the air, his arms secured above him, Bruce suddenly realized the total vulnerability of his position, the thoroughness with which Tony could take him, and a wave of tension crackled through his body, wanting, needing him to do it. He felt the head of Tony’s cock against his entrance and his own prick twitched, failing to find any of the friction he so desperately needed.

But suddenly he didn’t even care about that, because Tony was pressing in, his cock hot and hard and dragging against his insides and lighting them up like fireworks. 

Tony pulled back and pushed in again, lifting Bruce’s hips to adjust the angle until a stroke sent Bruce babbling and struggling, curling his toes and bending his knees over Tony’s shoulders. 

Tony made a worshipful sound and thrust again, harder but with that same trajectory that was already taking Bruce apart. He thrust fast and deep, and Bruce thought he’d have bruises in the morning where Tony’s hip bones rammed against Bruce’s ass as Tony filled him.

Bruce could feel the tension mounting again, his body a spring coiled far beyond what it should have been able to withstand, ready at every second to let go.

And then Tony was bending forward, and Bruce didn’t know he could stretch that way, and didn’t care, because he could feel the rasp of Tony’s beard and Tony’s lips on his own, and Tony was still pounding into him, but now his cock rubbed against Tony’s stomach with every stroke.

He moaned into Tony’s mouth, and Tony thrust faster, like all he cared about in the world was the slide and drag of his cock in Bruce. The pitch of Bruce’s moans skyrocketed, and he was gasping and groaning and rutting up against Tony, and yes, _this_ , this was really it--must be it, the best thing he’d ever felt, ever would feel, and that was fine because he was only human, more or less, and no one could be greedy enough to want more than this.

He throbbed--not just his cock, he would swear, but his whole self from the tips of his ears to his curled toes--and felt the hot wet spatter of his come between them.

Tony gasped, sucking in air and kissing him again and burying his face against the skin of Bruce’s neck as he gave one final thrust and he too was throbbing, spilling into Bruce and moaning his pleasure into Bruce’s shoulder.

For several minutes they lay together, Tony collapsed on top of him. Their breathing gradually turned from gasps to ordinary patterns, their heartbeats together returned to a more normal rate. Bruce released one of the cuffs and brought a hand down to toy with Tony’s hair, and Tony murmured his approval.

“And you thought this wasn’t a priority,” Tony scoffed, his voice sleepy and smug.

Bruce chuckled. “Definitely a priority.”

“This is why you listen to me.”

Bruce lay, boneless and warm, Tony draped across him, sated and sleepy and perfect. “Yeah,” he agreed, and wrapped his free arm around Tony. “It is.”


End file.
